


What We Treasure

by octopus_fool



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Community: hobbit_kink, Gen, Humor, Mushrooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 13:24:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopus_fool/pseuds/octopus_fool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What they find in Erebor is not quite what they expected - or, as Gandalf says: once again, mushrooms save the day!</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Treasure

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/6263.html?thread=14649975#t14649975) Hobbit-kink prompt.

The dwarves huddled at the backdoor, anxious for Bilbo to return from Smaug’s lair. Bofur hovered near the entrance, trying to gain some insight on whether Bilbo was alright or not.

“Do you really think it was a good idea to send him in there all alone?” Balin asked Thorin worriedly.

“It is his job as our burglar and he is less likely to make enough noise to wake up Smaug if he is on his own,” scowled Thorin. “And if Smaug is already awake, sending someone else along would have just meant roasting a good dwarf needlessly.”

“So you don’t care at all if Bilbo is roasted?” Bofur rounded on Thorin. “Is that how little you care about Bilbo?”

“How dare you speak to your king like that?” Thorin took another deep breath. “I...”

“Stop it, you two!” Dwalin stepped in and then paused, sniffing. “Is that... I think I smell smoke!”

The others stepped closer to the door, sniffing as well. Sure enough, there were tendrils of smoke and a fragrant smell of cooking rising from it.

Ori turned a delicate shade of green. “That’s Bilbo, isn’t it? That’s what roasted hobbit smells like!”

Fíli and Kíli also looked ready to gag.

“Nonsense!” Bombur declared, taking another whiff of the air. “That’s not hobbit, nor any kind of meat. That’s mushroom!”

“Mushroom? Why would a dragon’s lair smell of mushroom?” Glóin asked.

“Bofur, you were so eager to join Bilbo,” Thorin said. “Go in and find out what’s going on!”

Bofur grumbled but made his way down the tunnel as silently as he could. They all winced at the way his boots clanged. 

After a while, Bofur re-emerged with a worried look on his face.  
“I think we have a problem. Two, actually.” 

“Where’s Bilbo?”

“Is Bilbo alright?”

“Why didn’t Bilbo come back with you?”

Bofur held up a hand to silence the anxious dwarves.  
“Actually, that’s the first problem. Bilbo refused to come back out again.”

“Why?!” The others asked as one.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Bofur said, “You have to see this yourself.”

“But is it safe? What about Smaug?” Fíli asked.

“I don’t think you have to worry about him right now. Just follow me and you’ll see what I mean.”

The dwarves followed him into the tunnel carefully, boots stomping and trudging.

What they saw when they entered the treasure hall made their breath catch in their throats. There were great mounds and piles of mushrooms in all shapes and sizes. Some even grew up the pillars and walls. In the middle of it all, seated on an especially large mushroom, was Bilbo. In front of him were a small fire and a cooking pot.

“Oh, hullo. Feel free to choose your fourteenth of the treasure; I’ve already started on mine. Sorry I didn’t come back up, but I’m most certainly not letting Smaug get away with my mushrooms if he comes back!”

They stared at him with open mouths.

Thorin was the first to get his voice back. “But... but what about the _gold_? There used to be piles and piles of gold, jewels and other precious things here! Now there’s just...” he kicked at one of the mounds and took a closer look at it “straw, old wood and _mushrooms_!”

“Oi! Don’t go destroying those mushrooms!” Bilbo protested. “Isn’t this just so much better than gold? What good is gold? You can polish it and spend it and that’s about it. But think about all the things we can make with these mushrooms! There’s stuffed mushrooms and mushroom pasta, mushroom soup, omelettes, mushroom risotto and just wait until you try my grandmother’s recipe for mushroom stew! I was getting heartily sick of cram and this just goes beyond my wildest dreams!”

Thorin opened his mouth and closed it again. Bilbo dipped a spoon into the pot and tasted it.

“Yes, it’s just about ready. Fíli, Kíli, Ori come here and have a taste. Of course it would taste better if we had proper spices, but it’ll have to do for now. Don’t worry, I’ll let you have this little bit of my fourteenth just to mark the occasion.”

The young dwarves went over to Bilbo and carefully tried the soup before tucking in with great appetite.

Bombur wandered around, looking at the different mushroom types.  
“Champignons, morels, chanterelles, lion’s mane mushrooms, blewits... oh, look! There are even oyster mushrooms and eastern black mushrooms! Bilbo is right, this is so much better than gold!” 

Óin was taking great interest in some of the mushrooms growing on the walls, occasionally cutting a few off and tying them together on a string. 

Bofur and Bifur joined Bilbo and the younger dwarves around the fire and began eating, too.  
The others looked around in confusion and disappointment. 

Finally Balin spoke. “I think we can at least move our packs inside. It doesn’t look like there has been a dragon in here in a long time.”

 

“At least we have our home back now that the dragon is gone,” Thorin grumbled as he picked up a pack. “And there’s no reason for you to look so gleeful about anything!” He kicked at the thrush sitting by their former campsite and it flew away.

While Bilbo and Bombur traded cooking recipes and taught the younger dwarves the best ways to cook mushrooms, the older dwarves started repairing the damage Smaug and the passing of time had done to Erebor. Eventually, even Thorin had to admit that the mushrooms were quite tasty, but that still didn’t make him forget the loss of his gold.

He sent ravens to Dáin and Dís to let them know their home was reclaimed and their kin could follow.

 

Several days later, there was the sound of trumpets being blown in front of the main gates. Thorin and the other dwarves rushed out and saw that there was a delegation of Lake-Men and Wood-Elves standing outside.

“What do you want?” Thorin cried out.

“We aided you in reclaiming your home and we have come to claim our share of the treasure. We gave you supplies that we might lack ourselves during the coming winter.”

Thorin laughed. “You want your share of the treasure? How much do you want?”

Bard and Thranduil looked at each other in surprise.  
“One twelfth would be enough to compensate what we gave you and ensure good relations between our realms in the future.”

“One twelfth and we’re good? That sounds fair enough,” Thorin said with a grin. “Send us a dozen wagons and give us three days’ time, and you shall have your share.”

The wagons soon arrived and the dwarves spent the next three days harvesting mushrooms and loading them into the wagons while singing.

Only Bilbo was unhappy.  
“How can you just give away so many good mushrooms? All those Lake-Men gave us was cram and more cram. The elves imprisoned you and fed you dry bread. I say we give them old straw or nothing at all!”

They ignored him, until Thorin caught him filing away at the axle of one of the wagons.

“Bilbo Baggins! You got your share of mushrooms and you have no right to decide what happens with the remaining ones. I will not allow you to endanger the future relations between my kingdom and its neighbours over a couple of mushrooms!”

Bilbo grumbled but went away to cook more mushrooms. 

As promised, the wagons were loaded and covered three days later and the dwarves led the ponies pulling them through the gates towards the waiting delegation. To their surprise, Gandalf was there too.

“Here is the promised twelfth of the treasure of Erebor,” Thorin announced grandly. “May our realms live in peace with one another.”

Bard lifted the corner of a cover.

“ _Mushrooms_?!”

Thranduil stepped closer to take a look. He hurriedly looked under the cover of the next wagon as well.

“There are only mushrooms here! Are you telling us that the only thing Erebor has to offer is mushrooms?”

Thorin grimaced. “I’m afraid so. I was hoping to see the treasures of my ancestors again, but when we entered the treasure vault, we only found mushrooms growing in enormous amounts on old wood and straw. You are welcome to see for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“I’m afraid our hobbit was the only one happy with this development,” Balin added.

Gandalf began chuckling.  
“My, my, so that old legend is true!”

“What old legend? What are you talking about?” Thorin asked him none too kindly.

“There is an old legend about a dragon disease. Everything of value the affected touch slowly but surely turns to straw and wood.” 

Thorin looked horrified.

“Oh, don’t worry, it only affects dragons, you are perfectly safe. Smaug must have left in search of a new hoard when all the gold had been replaced in this one. And the water seeping into the unused treasure vault made the straw and wood into the ideal substrate for mushrooms.”

“Well, there’s not much for it,” Bard shrugged while Thranduil tried to keep the amused look from his face at the dwarves’ misfortune. “At least these mushrooms will refill our pantries. I hope the cooperation between our realms will be as good as it was of old, especially once we start rebuilding Dale.”

Thorin nodded and was about to speak when there was a cacophonous blare of horns from the nearby hill.

They looked over in horror to see Azog leading a vast army of orcs and goblins.

“I heard there’s a treasure to claim!” He shouted as he strode towards them. “Since you encroached on our hospitality and killed the goblin king, we have a right to some of the treasure as well!”

Thorin laughed. “I’m afraid there’s not much of a treasure to claim, unless you are looking for mushrooms.”

“Mushrooms? Why would I believe you? The Lake-Men and elves get gold and you try to send us away with mushrooms?” Azog growled.

The dwarves quickly uncovered the wagons and Azog stared in disbelief.

Then he spat. “We have enough stinking mushrooms in our own mountains. Unless you happen to have any hallucinogenic ones?”

“I’m afraid not,” Thorin replied.

“But those little purple ones...” Kíli started before Dwalin firmly clamped a hand over his mouth.

“Pah! I always knew you dwarves were a useless lot!” Azog turned around. “Move, you rabble! We’re going to the Grey Mountains instead, to see if we can find that other treasure Brazgnar told us about. Move!”

They watched as the orcs and goblins disappeared over the hills. 

 

“Well, once again, mushrooms saved the day!” Gandalf exclaimed cheerfully after they had bade the Lake-Men and the elves farewell.

“Don’t tell me something like that has happened before!” Fíli said wide-eyed.

Gandalf chuckled. “Stranger things have happened, my boy, stranger things have happened. Now how about some mushroom soup? I’m sure Bilbo will have been busy cooking while we were out here chatting.”

Bilbo had indeed prepared a large pot of soup, but he was still upset with Thorin.

“I don’t know how you could just give away all those good mushrooms! Some people in the Shire would have given you all their gold, even the clothes on their skin for those mushrooms!”

“People would pay in gold for mushrooms?” Thorin asked in astonishment.

“Of course!” Bilbo replied. “Especially for ones of this quality.”

Thorin, Balin and Dwalin exchanged looks.

 

And so it was that Erebor became Middle-Earth’s largest mushroom producer and their mushrooms were not only shipped to the Shire, but to Gondor, Rohan and even beyond. 

Mushrooms flowed out of the Mountain and gold flowed into the newly built treasure vaults. The kingdom prospered and all were happy. 

And if the special crates of the little purple mushrooms occasionally arrived late to Thranduil’s palace, well, Thorin had to take revenge somehow.


End file.
